Christmas, 1725
by BluePeople
Summary: My take on the pastor's daughter.  It'll be four chapters - not a crazy epic like that last thing I posted.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My take on the pastor's daughter. It'll be 4 chapters and they're all written. Minor edits and up they'll come. Enjoy!**

* * *

Von Krolock watched from a window as the girl rattled the castle gates and shrieked uselessly against the wind. "Hello? Hello, is anyone there? Hello? Lord Vampire? Please… please let me in…"

_Lord Vampire?_ That was a new one. He was thoroughly curious now, but in case it was a trap of some kind designed to lure him outside, he waited until the cold overcame her and she crumpled. When nobody materialized from the darkness to help her, he took it as proof enough that she was alone, and hurried out to bring her indoors himself.

* * *

The girl didn't wake for half an hour, even after he had her laid out on a chaise lounge by a roaring fire, her wet coat and pathetic excuse for boots replaced by warm blankets. When her eyes finally opened, the first thing she did was look around, notice him, and press both hands to her mouth.

"Hush – you're safe here," he assured quickly, before she could start to scream. He rose and moved far away, standing by the window, watching her in the glass. "I found you outside my castle. Are you lost?"

She shook her head, and pulled the blanket tight up to her chin. She was terrified.

He was puzzled, until he realized that he'd moved too fast for her to even see. He sighed. He would have to be more careful. "You are safe here," he repeated. "What's your name?"

"K-K-Katherine."

"Katherine, I won't hurt you. I am Count von Krolock, and I believe you were looking for me." He turned to face her. "Can you tell me why you've come?"

She smiled a little, relaxing. "Good – you _are _kind," she said. "The stories said all different things about that. I wasn't sure what to believe."

"Ah." Story-hunters made his skin crawl. "Then, you can correct the ones who had it wrong. What else did you want to know – or do you only want to sit and stare at me?"

She cringed, and he kicked himself. "No – forgive me," he said at once. "I don't often have visitors here and I'm afraid I've lost the skill of being polite. Is there… anything I can offer you? Some wine, perhaps?"

She shook her head. "I don't really drink wine – I'm only twelve." She sat up straighter, shivering when a wet lock of hair brushed her neck.

Her neck was very white and very fragile. He looked away from it in a hurry…

But before he knew it he had made his way across the room to kneel by her chair. "Are you feeling better?" he murmured, scooping her hand off her lap to rub it between both of his. "The cold was fierce, tonight."

"I know." Her eyes were wide and unafraid, and she shifted to sit closer to him. "I walked most of the way from the village. My stupid horse got frightened of the woods, and wouldn't take me any further."

"You walked-?" His eyebrows rose. "And in those dreadful boots with holes in them? No wonder you're exhausted." He let go of her hand and crawled down to the end of the chair, so he could tug the blanket up and rub her feet instead. Conveniently this would keep him away from her neck, and from the scent of her breath.

"Ooh – thank you. That feels really nice."

"You're welcome. Now… are you going to tell me why you came here?"

He looked up expectantly and she nodded at him, but since his gaze seemed to make her more nervous he soon dropped his eyes.

"Well… my name is Katherine," she began. "My father is the pastor in town. And in the Christmas season he talks a lot about love, and Jesus… about how Jesus says God's love is supposed to be for everybody."

Headache speared through him at all the talk of _God _and _Jesus,_ but he grit his teeth and kept his mouth shut.

"Well, and around Christmas we always have to bring things, you know, food and clothes and things, to people who don't have them. But then Father also says, you know, that _things _aren't important next to God's love, and the spirit of being together, and that at this time we should be especially grateful for our family and the times we have with them. You know. And I thought…" She hesitated.

"You thought?" he prompted absently, trying not to look at her. He could almost _smell _her blood beneath the skin, so warm and so close…

"And I thought that you're always alone up here," she continued softly. "I thought somebody should come and wish you a merry Christmas for once. Maybe bring you a present. And so I did. It will be Christmas tomorrow, did you know that?"

That surprised him enough to distract him from her blood a moment. "You thought someone should come wish me a merry Christmas?" he repeated. "_Me? _You thought of _me?_"

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "Because if we're supposed to be spreading the warmth of God's love, then what better-"

"God and I don't get along very well, my dear," he interrupted. "I am damned. Surely if you've heard any stories at all you know that much."

She crossed her arms. "Well that's no reason. Jesus used to preach to-"

"_Please_." He held up a hand. "Truly. The name itself is painful to me."

She frowned, at a loss.

"But I am still grateful for your visit," he said. "And I'm touched that you thought of me during your holiday."

"Mm." She smiled again. "I think you're nice," she said.

"I'm glad."

"My grandfather is the man you bit," she said. "Years and years ago. Do you remember? When everybody first promised to stay away from the castle and…" Her eyes widened. "Oh! I didn't think of-… you're not angry that I've come, are you?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm not angry," he said. "I do remember that night. The agreement was only that the village and I would leave one another in peace. I don't consider you a breach of the peace."

"That's good." She smiled at him when he looked up. "But yes, my grandfather was the one. So I've seen the marks he has on his neck... but still he's quite healthy, stronger than any of the other old men, never sick and always in church. So I know you did no harm to him…"

She was hesitant now, almost as though she were asking a question, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. "That's right, I didn't harm him," he said at last, cautiously. "We were sealing an agreement of peace." He waited to see what she wanted.

"So." She sat up straighter and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders, all business. "I think nobody brings you gifts at Christmas, and I wanted to. But I didn't know what you might want, except for this: would you like to bite me?" She tilted her head back.

He dropped her ankle and flew backwards so fast he fell over his cloak. He scrambled to his feet, eyes away from her throat, and crossed the room. "What? _What did you just say?_" he rasped.

There was no answer, and he peeked into the window. She was sitting with her knees drawn up, holding the blanket tight against her face, hidden up to the eyes. "I'm sorry," she squeaked miserably into it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't be angry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I thought you might like it. I'm sorry. Please don't be angry…"

"No, it's-…" He swallowed. "No," he repeated at last, still facing away. "I'm not angry." He coughed to clear some of the growl out of his voice and explained: "What you hear is… not anger. It's just want, that's all. Just want. You've done nothing wrong."

"Just want?" she echoed, lowering the blanket cautiously. "Then, you do…? Then why did you run away?"

"Because I'm afraid I would hurt you. You're so small. Fragile."

At that she bounced up to her feet. "I am _not _small and fragile," she declared, hands on her hips. "Look at me: I'm almost thirteen years old, and I'm bigger and stronger than most of the boys I know. I walked all the way here! I am _not _fragile."

"Forgive me." He tried not to smile. "I meant only that you don't have all that much blood to spare at your age. Bleeding can put you in danger. Do you understand?"

She frowned. "I'm sure I have a _little _to spare, don't I? Why can't you just have a little?"

He tried to explain without really letting himself think about it, about how she would taste. "It's hard, my dear. Have you ever tried to have just_ a little _of something delicious?" She didn't answer, and only stared at him with more challenge than ever. He sighed. "What you offer is a beautiful gift. But I think…"

He couldn't say yes. But he couldn't bring himself to say no, either. And when he still hesitated, the girl giggled and tugged the collar of her dress down. "Suit yourself," she lilted, almost singing. "But it's probably ve-ry ta-sty…"

It probably was. He laughed, because otherwise he might roar and that would really terrify her. "All right – come here," he rumbled. She came, gliding barefoot across the carpet, smirking and triumphant, and he struggled to hold on to himself. To see her as the little ((_morsel))_ girl she was and be a ((_predator))_ gentleman. Even to be considerate of her. "It will hurt a little."

She tossed her head. "I'm not afraid."

"You're not, are you." He looked down at her. She didn't even come up to his chest and he found the idea of swooping down and bending low over her troubling… but if he knelt, then he would be a bit too short to reach her neck. So he picked her up and settled her on his hip, holding her. She rested her head on his shoulder and that left her throat conveniently within inches of his mouth.

His jaws stretched wide, but then he took a breath and closed them on her as gently as possible.

One swift little squeeze and he felt his fangs break her skin. She gasped and tensed against him, clutching at his clothes. But then there was blood on his tongue, blood washing over him and it was all he could pay attention to… but he forbid himself from sucking hard. Instead he rocked her, repeating _no _over and over to himself and reminding himself that this was a _child_ requiring the utmost care and restraint. He tried to enjoy the taste without really indulging. It was torture, but at the same time it was fascinating to have blood without fear or fighting for a change. And it was delicious and it had been so long…

"It doesn't hurt that badly," she murmured against his shoulder. "You can go on."

But he knew he had pushed his self-discipline far enough for one evening, and he pulled back. "Enough," he said. Talking felt strange with his mouth so wet, and what he really wanted was-

She turned to look at him, and giggled. "You've got it all over your face."

He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look quite this untroubled after being bitten. He bent and put her down before she charmed the control right out of him, and wiped his mouth with his finger so he could lick it. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

But he could see… He put his hand to her jaw and turned her head gently. "You've got it on your neck, too," he pointed out, and bent to lick. She let him, giggling even more.

"Ow – that tickles. You're like a puppy," she said, bringing her hand up to thread through his hair as his tongue rasped again and again over the new wounds.

Eventually he stood up again, but she still oozed blood and he couldn't take his eyes off it. "Here," he said, offering his handkerchief. "Cover it up."

She did as she was told, and perched on the edge of the lounge chair waiting for him to come close.

"Thank you," he said as soon as he felt able to talk calmly. "That was the only Christmas gift anybody has given me in many, many years… and I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"You're welcome." She wriggled with pleasure. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I loved it. And I'd like to give you a gift in return. Let me think on it, and I will send something down to the village for you – in secret."

"Oh!" She covered her mouth. "Really?"

"Yes. But nobody will know it came from me. It's probably best that way, I think."

She nodded. "A lot of people are afraid of you."

"I suppose they are."

"And a lot of the girls are in love with you, so it would probably make them jealous."

He frowned. "What? In _love _with me?"

She nodded again, energetically. "Oh, yes. You didn't know? Do you want to hear? They say – oh it's funny, especially Anna, she's the worst, she says she dreams about you floating through her window at night to kiss her and teach her wicked things. Though she wouldn't tell me what. But they all think you must be terribly handsome, her especially. And she's certain you're going to come carry her off one day."

"That is… it's… no. _Truly_?"

"Yes. None of the girls know your name though – they only know you as the vampire lord who lives up in the castle – so they make it up for themselves."

He digested that a moment. "Well." He felt calmer now, the blood no longer pounding in his ears, and he pulled up a chair to sit near her. "It seems I _have_ been out of touch. I have an idea: I'll take you back home before dawn, but in the meantime, why don't you tell me what's been happening down in the village?"

"Sure! What kinds of things do you want to hear about?"

"Whatever you'd like to tell."

He regretted almost immediately having said that, because she took him at his word and started prattling as only a girl can. He got her back into her house before dawn broke, but barely.

* * *

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

**Reve** – Yeah, this whole story is a load of basic angst. I think vK was getting annoyed that I persist in not treating his ((whining))… his _emotional pain_ seriously enough in my other stories. (I can't imagine what gave him that idea! Maybe it was that I was just working on a scene where Alfred accidentally walks in on him masturbating?) So, for once, this story is going to be dark and angsty, just the way he likes it. I promise I'll get back to teasing him afterwards.

**erik'slittlebird **- I like her! And I think she's nicer than Sarah - they were both probably really cute as kids, but I bet Sarah worked very hard on making angel-eyes to get what she wanted. Katherine is kind of a MarySueling by comparison. (But I still like her! No wonder vK feels bad about her on a longterm basis.)

* * *

He sent a servant to bring the town shoemaker a sum of money and a note from an anonymous (and only slightly creepy) benefactor, and the girl got a pair of boots without holes in them. For a few days he waited on pins and needles for a cross- and torch-bearing mob to bang on his gates, but when nothing happened he decided that he must have gotten away with it. But it wouldn't do to tempt fate, and so he made no effort to contact the girl again.

And the next Christmas, he made _every _effort not to sit at his window and wait for her… but he couldn't help it.

She didn't come. He waited all night. And the following Christmas he forbid himself even more sternly from keeping the silly vigil, but again, before he knew it he was sitting where he had a view of the gates, fretting about the cold and wishing that Christmas came at a safer time of the year for her.

But again, dawn broke and Katherine the pastor's daughter had not paid a visit. He decided she must have forgotten about him by now and moved on to other amusements, and was amazed to find that the idea hurt him.

On Christmas three years after her visit, though, when he was holed up safely in his library where there were _no _windows to watch from, a servant knocked on the door. "There is a visitor, my lord. A girl at the gates."

* * *

This time he let her in before she fainted. Servants showed her into a room with a fire, where von Krolock waited leaning against the mantle.

Her face lit up when she saw him and she barreled straight into his arms to hug and kiss him like he was a long-lost uncle. "Count, I missed you, oh I _missed _you!" she bubbled. "This is the first year I could get away again, last year we had cousins over and one slept in my room with me and- oh, it doesn't matter, I'm just glad I made it this time. I'm so glad. How are you?"

"I am… I am well, Katherine. And yourself? I see you've grown." She now stood almost to his shoulder.

"Ugh – please don't remind me." She let go of him and stepped away, laughing. "My father's even talking about getting me married soon."

"Married? Already?"

"Yes. Ugh. I miss running wild and climbing trees with all the boys." She looked around. "Oh, I remember this place."

He chuckled. "I'm afraid I still can't really offer you much to eat; I haven't employed a cook here in quite some time. But make yourself at home as best you can. I can pour you wine if you wish?"

"Oh yes, please, I'd like that."

She drank and they talked. It grew more and more difficult for him to watch her throat work as she swallowed, though, and eventually he had to stand and move away a little.

She frowned at his back. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Oh. _Oh,_" she said after a moment. "I hear that. I remember what it means. It means you _want,_ doesn't it?"

He nodded. "Just give me a moment."

"No." He could hear her moving, coming closer. "There's no need – you can bite me again, if you like." She laughed a little. "After all, it is Christmas."

She was right behind him now and he turned to face her. "How can you allow that?" He shook his head. "You're not a child anymore; you must know what I am. This is not… wholesome."

"Psh. It _is _wholesome for someone to be good to you," she insisted. "And there's nothing wrong with taking what I offer freely. Please?" She took his hands and held them. "I like that I can give you joy - you look like you don't get nearly enough of it. Please let me."

He tugged one hand free so that he could reach for her cheek. He skimmed his fingers over her face, then her throat, and watched a blush rise in her cheeks. The wanting had grown painful in its intensity, but still he held back one more moment, because this would be worth it. He stroked over her throat with his nails to make her shiver and murmured: "Katherine, truly: are you willing?"

"Completely," she breathed. "Go on."

_This, _wholesome? Could anybody really be so naïve?

Not that it mattered; he had reached the end of his willpower and no more resistance was possible. He turned her face away gently to stretch her neck out. He bent and moved his mouth over her until he felt the smooth spots, the barest hint of scar that she still carried. "Are you sure?" he whispered against her skin.

Her arms crept around his waist and she nodded.

He bit down and this time dared more than just a taste. She gasped at the pain as he sucked a drink of her, but made no effort to push away and in fact even seemed to pull him closer.

His head spun and for a moment he was tempted to just forego all control and continue until he was satisfied. But then he heard her say: "Goodness, you _did _want, didn't you," and her voice, light and amused, helped to anchor him.

Enough. Enough, now. He pulled away, finally, and hid his face against her shoulder. He tried to calm down, but pleasure and greed were crashing over him and he could hardly even breathe. Eventually it occurred to him that space might help.

He extricated himself carefully from her arms and stepped away, wiping his mouth.

She grinned at him. "It's all over you again."

"And all over you." He was still trying to get ahold of himself.

"Was it good?" She wasn't helping.

"_Good _isn't even close to adequate."

"Oh- I feel like I'm still dripping. Do you have a cloth, or…?"

He decided the _or _would do nicely. He cupped her cheek as he licked her, and she nuzzled into his hand.

… But still giggled like a little girl and murmured, "Puppy."

* * *

TBC. Halfway there.

Poor thing - I like her. Too bad we all know what happens to her eventually.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

**velo312 – **Hi, great to have you on board! *resists urge to give spoilers*.

**Reve** – Ha don't worry, it wasn't that bad, and anyway I took it out. It belonged in Expert. It was the only time in the whole story Alfred tactfully withdrew from a situation instead of asking scientific questions about vampire life (and the only time vK actually volunteered information himself: "It relieves tension, which is important for a vampire sleeping next to someone living, and it doesn't require an audience. Go away!"). If I put Expert up again it'll go at the end as a deleted scene; I kinda like it.

**erik'slittlebird** – Yeah I bet Sarah was a brave little kid too. She certainly grew into a brave young lady!

* * *

He paused outside the window. He wondered again, for the thousandth time, if this wasn't perhaps a terrible idea, but before he could change his mind he knocked.

Immediately there was movement inside, and the window creaked open. "Count?"

"Shh. May I come in?"

"Oh-… yes, yes, of course."

He scrambled in much too fast for her to see how graceless it was, climbing through a window. He stood up and unfurled his cape and gave a short bow. _Katherine._

Her eyes grew wide. "How did you do that?"

_I don't need to speak out loud for you to hear me._

"But-"

_And you should whisper, so that we don't wake your family. I will hear._

She lowered her voice to just the barest huff of air. "This?"

_Perfect._ He smiled at her.

"You got my note?"

_I did. Tomorrow is the day?_

"Yes."

_I wish you all the best._

"Mm. I'm glad you came. I wanted to say goodbye to you."

At that he frowned, and pulled the cape a bit tighter around him. _Goodbye?_

"I doubt I'll be able to sneak out at night once I'm sharing a bed. And I doubt my husband will appreciate your coming in to visit."

His lips twitched. _I suppose not._

"May I… will you hold me?"

The vampire looked amused as he opened his arms to her. _As I recall, you ordinarily leap at me without any warning at all._

"Well, I'm trying to grow up." She slid her arms around him and pressed herself tight to his body. She'd had a lot of hugs lately, everyone wanting to congratulate her… but she would know this particular hug anywhere. His temperature was cool, but his embrace felt _warm _in every other way, and she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder (standing on tiptoe). _I like the way you hold me, _she thought at him as powerfully as she could.

He chuckled. Had he heard?

A moment later she shivered as something brushed her neck. He was inching her hair out of the way. He moved so slowly she thought she might die of anticipation, and when her neck was finally bare, he stroked it softly with one finger.

She moaned.

_Shh._

She sucked in her breath and clung tighter to him. "Don't," she whispered, and he stilled at once. She pulled back so she could look him in the face. "I can't have bite marks showing over my dress tomorrow."

He seemed surprised. _Of course. You must know I would never bite you uninvited. I was just…_

"Just what?" She slid her hands down to his hips, grinning at her own daring.

_Just torturing myself. _

She watched his eyes glitter and her neck _ached _for him, for that delightful little pinch and everything that came with. She swallowed. "I wish…"

_Hmm?_

"I wish I _could _offer. But I really… the marks…" she hesitated.

_You're right. But-…_

"What?"

He shook his head and took a step back. _Nothing. It is best I go now. _He reached for her hand and bowed over it. His lips made her shiver and she wondered if that was her imagination or just the barest press of fangs…

"Wait."

His eyebrows rose.

"I… I want… I changed my mind: I don't care about the marks, I want to… I want to give you… one more time. Please." She knew he wouldn't say no to this, he _couldn't_ – he was struggling visibly for control already. She pulled the collar of her nightgown down and waited.

But he turned his back on her. _Katherine, tomorrow people will see your neck. No matter how careful I am, they would notice._

"Then… do it somewhere else!" She crept up behind him and hugged him, molding her body to his. "Somewhere no one will look at. Please? I'd love to give that to you, once more. And I know you want it. Please."

_There is…_

"What?"

_A place where blood runs close to the surface, where no one will see._ He turned suddenly and took her by the arms, and for the first time ever, his grip hurt her. _Are you willing?_

She actually did feel a bit nervous now, but it was a good kind of nervous, an exciting kind, and she nodded. "Go on."

Von Krolock lifted her easily and carried her over to the bed. He sat her down and knelt in front of her. _Shh, _he warned, before sliding her nightgown up her legs.

"Oh! B-_"_

Faster than she could register, he was on top of her, covering her mouth with his hand. "Hush, I said," he whispered aloud. His free hand found her thigh and grasped gently. "Here."

She tried to catch her breath and answer, but the best she could do was nod.

He reared back to smile at her, before slithering down again to kneel on the floor between her legs.

She hardly breathed as he worked her nightgown up, up, up. All the way up. The feel of cool air against her sex made her jump in almost-panic, but he pressed a hand softly against her stomach and lay her back down.

_Only a bite, my dear. No different than ever. No different. _He repeated it to himself, for good measure.

"I know... I trust you. Go on." She stroked his cheek, tucked his hair behind his ear and let out a long shivery sigh. "Drink."

He leaned close and pushed her clothing over her hips and out of the way. He was lightheaded with want and so didn't draw it out: he put his hands inside her legs, perilously close to the site of _her _want, and spread them wide. He moved his lips over her until he was sure he'd found the perfect place, and he sank his teeth.

* * *

TBC

Last part will be up soon.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:

**erik'slittlebird** – I'm definitely a sucker for sappy Beauty and the Beast type stories, but yeah, this isn't one. BatB stuff typically has a happy ending, and…

* * *

Von Krolock stood in the front hallway, looking at the old woman. She was an _old_ old woman. Goodness knows how she'd even made it here in the dark…

"Count." She moved to curtsy, stiffly. "Merry Christmas."

Even after all these years he knew that voice. He swallowed. "Katherine?"

"You remember!" She smiled and it was the same smile, exactly the same.

"Of course I remember. Of course. You must be freezing – let's go into the study. There's a fire."

She took his arm, but frowned at him doubtfully. "I don't know that I can manage the stairs…"

"Fragile at last?" he teased, but gently. He led her slowly towards the staircase. "No matter; I can carry you." He scooped her up and she was light, as light as the first time all those years ago.

"Have you been getting my letters?" she asked.

"Every year. Have you been getting my dreams?"

She sucked in her breath. "_Yes. _I wondered if I was imagining that… if it was just in my mind…"

"I was afraid to write you; I didn't want to disturb your husband."

"Goodness, it's been so long." Her bony fingers dug into his shoulder. "Do you remember…"

"Yes." He could hear himself starting to growl. "Exactly how fragile are you now?"

"Count! Please, I'm-" her voice was soft, weak… but then she brightened and hid her face against his neck. "I'm an old lady!" She giggled, and it was a little girl's giggle.

"I was old before you were born, Katherine." They reached the study and he set her down, in an armchair. He pulled it close to the fire.

"How many other girls have there been?" she said. "Besides me?"

He was on his knees by her chair at once. "None," he swore. "None, not ever, never. Never have I cherished someone in her girlhood and yearned after the woman she became and counted her a friend through half a century. Never."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

"I'm glad." Her eyes dropped. "I wish I wasn't… like this. Old and- _oh!_"

He'd snatched up her hand suddenly, to kiss it. "Hush." He tried not to think of why she had come. He knew why. _To say goodbye,_ and he didn't want to think of that. Not at all.

Instead he focused on how warm she was, and how prominent her veins had grown with age. He could see the blood moving under her skin, could still remember what it tasted like. How hot it was, going in gulps down his throat…

She flushed and looked down. "Count… _really_?"

He nodded. His mouth ached. "It _is _Christmas…"

She laughed and brushed hair off her neck, and leaned back. "Go on," she breathed, her voice throaty. "I trust you."

He nuzzled into her neck and carefully, more careful than he had ever been with her, bit.

* * *

Von Krolock woke up feeling wonderful, well-rested, stronger than he had in years. For a while he felt too good even to move, and just lay still thinking about the strange dream he'd just had. Little Katherine as an old woman. How strange.

He shifted and yawned

And all at once it hit him like a punch to the gut. He wasn't at home – he was in herroom. He was in her bed. He was lying full on top of her and _she wasn't moving._

He fell out of bed, fought through the tangle of his cape and clothes, and lurched to his feet. When he gasped his jaw ached. No prizes for guessing why – the taste of her blood was still thick in his mouth.

He looked at her and his stomach heaved. His pretty little Katherine, lying still, looking like a wild beast had got to her. Or worse. Her nightgown was hiked up and her thighs were crusted with blood.

There was so much blood. She'd been bitten more than once, savagely by the looks of things, but nobody had come to help her and that meant she hadn't screamed or fought. She had… trusted him. Until it was too late, and she fainted, and apparently he hadn't even noticed.

He reached out to tug her clothes back down and hide what he had done; the sight was making him sick. But then that put him close enough to see the carnage he'd made of her neck too – a deep glistening wound surrounded by rusty curlicues. Those were marks from his blood-soaked hair, left there because he had _slept _on her, snoring away satisfied while she bled out beneath him.

She was supposed to be married tomorrow. "Katherine?" He touched her cheek, trying to hope.

Nothing, so he prodded a little harder. Her head only flopped sideways. "_Katherine,"_ he said again, harsher. He tore her nightgown open and laid a hand over her heart.

But it didn't beat.

* * *

**The End.**

So apparently, in my head vampires go into food-comas too. Heh.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!


End file.
